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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061813">Lazarus Flu</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitPunch493/pseuds/FruitPunch493'>FruitPunch493</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Firebringer - Team StarKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, Former Clark/Jemilla, Minor Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:48:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitPunch493/pseuds/FruitPunch493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The virus started in Russia, small and entirely unintimidating. As transmission and death rates skyrocket, people begin to realize that this disease may not be as harmless as they once thought. When the undead flood the streets and the world's fears are confirmed, it brings life as everyone knows it to a grinding halt. In these trying times, there are two options: give up and become one of them, or fight and live another day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emberly/Grunt (Firebringer), Jemilla/Zazzalil (Firebringer)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Shit Hits the... I Don't Even Know What</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>May 26, 2020</b>
</p><p>
  <em>"A new virus has been detected in Russia. It's a new strain of a novel coronavirus, and is being closely monitored. There have been a dozen patients who have tested positive for the disease which the World Health Organization has named 20-RUV. The 20 stands for the year, the 'RU' stands for 'Russia', and the 'V' stands for 'virus'. At this point there is no reason for concern over the 20-RUV outbreak, but the situation is being closely monitored."</em>
</p><p>The television was blaring in the small living room. At first, it had just been for background noise, but now Jemilla looked up at it for a brief moment. Her interest in the story piqued. How interesting, she thought, that new diseases just pop up. She wasn't sure, however, why such a minor disease was being reported on by such a large news station.<em> Unless it isn't as minor as it appears to be.</em></p><p>She shook the thought off, positive that it wouldn't become an issue. Her book reclaimed her interest and soon enough she was flipping through its pages again, the report the last thing on her mind despite the fact that it was still going.</p><p>Clark walked into the room, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he started at the television. The reporter was now spewing off a list of symptoms that sounded surprisingly close to the flu.</p><p>"What's that about?" He looked down to Jemilla, eyebrows furrowed in thought.</p><p>"Just some new virus they found in Russia." She barely looked up from her book. A hummed respond rumbled in his throat, seeming as unconcerned as his fiancée had.</p><p>He took a few steps toward her and used his finger to gently lift her chin so he could give her a quick kiss. "I'm going to work. Love you, babe."</p><p>"Love you, too." They smiled at each other as he left the room. Jemilla listened for the front door to shut and without too much more thought, she went back to reading her book.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>July 11, 2020</b>
</p><p>
  <em>"We are now receiving differing reports than we were a short two months ago. In addition to a spike in positive cases around the globe, death rates have spiked to a record high of 9.8% of all resolved 20-RUV cases. The vast majority of those deaths have been in individuals older than fifty-five, or with a cancer diagnosis. Doctors are unsure what has caused the spike in cases over the past couple of weeks, but the president is setting a few national guidelines in place. These are minimum requirements that governors will be able to intensify on a state-by-state basis as they feel necessary. We can't say for sure, but we're assuming that these will be altered as numbers of positive cases increase across the country."</em>
</p><p>The curly haired girl stared up at the screen. It was rather loud in the mall, so she was reading the subtitles as they scrolled by and refused to stop reading. This was concerning information. She glanced around the food court, trying to gauge others' reactions. Nobody else in the immediate vicinity seemed to even be paying attention to the report, and she wasn't sure they would be phased by it if they had been.</p><p>On top of being generally concerning, it was drastically different from what most news stations had been reporting on even just one week ago. Last she had heard, they still assumed that it was a harmless virus that would just blow over.</p><p>She remained optimistic. As a twenty-four-year-old with no health problems, she knew that she would very likely be safe. The only real downside that had affected her directly to this point was that she had been unable to go home to her adoptive mother, Molag, for fear of getting the older woman sick. Molag was tough as nails, but that didn't stop the woman from worrying about her. Walking had become quite difficult for her and she'd needed a cane in recent years. Her mother thought that she hadn't noticed how she would soothe and massage her aching joints, or how she would have trouble when she would trying to sit down or stand up.</p><p>She missed Molag, but she liked knowing that she was healthy more than she missed the woman.</p><p>Going home was not an option for her, and that had been the worst reality check to date.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>August 16, 2020</b>
</p><p>
  <em>"The World Health Organization has officially declared the virus a global health crisis. Earlier this evening, WHO held a conference in which the virus' status was updated to a global pandemic. Its death rate has spiked to an alarming 32.6%. Elderly populations were once believed to the only demographic suffering large amounts of casualties, but now we're starting to see more even numbers across all demographics. It is currently unclear if this is due to rapid and uncontrolled mutations in the virus."</em>
</p><p>With how quickly the situation was evolving, it was hard to assume that the virus hadn't been doing the same. Last Jemilla had checked, all countries put some sort of curfew or travel ban in effect in hopes of reigning in control over the growing number of cases. Despite people generally not taking these new regulations seriously, it seemed to be doing at least a little bit to curb infection rates. Or at least that's what the media was saying.</p><p>At this rate, the death rate was the most alarming part of this disease. Not only was it killing a lot, but it was killing fast. Once someone got the disease they were typically gone within a three to five day window.</p><p>What was worse, was there still wasn't a cure.</p><p>A buzz next to Jemilla's head pulled her from her thoughts. It was a text from "The Tribe" group chat. Her friend group from college had created it so that they could all keep in touch after graduation, though it rarely got used anymore. The notification surprised her at first, but once she read it she could no longer be surprised.</p><p>[<b>Zazzalil</b>: so what's our zombie apocalypse plan?]</p><p>Jemilla rolled her eyes and began tapping away at her screen, chastising Zazzalil for making the situation into something it isn't. The rest of their friends quickly jumped on that same wagon, all making jokes about their game plan for when shit hit the fan.</p><p>Ridiculous was the only word that described the situation. There had been no indication up to this point that anything even remotely resembling a zombie apocalypse could happen.</p><p>[<b>Emberly</b>: You can all come over and we'll set up base here]</p><p>[<b>Grant</b>: thanks for asking me first babe]</p><p>[<b>Grant</b>: love you too]</p><p>Eyes rolled yet again, though not quite as dramatically, as Clark walked into the room and took the seat next to Jemilla. His arm rested around her shoulders and he pulled her down onto his chest. He knew her well enough that he didn't need to ask if she was stressed. Worry was never a feeling she liked admitting to, and that was fine by Clark. Instead of making her talk about it, he would always just sit with her until she felt better. The sentiment of it was something she appreciated more than she showed.</p><p>Clark was warm and inviting. His heartbeat sounded in Jemilla's ear as she pushed herself further into him, absorbing every last bit of comfort she could from him.</p><p>Strong hands urged her to look up, and he captured her lips in a hard kiss. She hummed against his lips, then stood, grabbed his hand, and lead him down the hall to their room.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>December 29, 2020</b>
</p><p>
  <em>"People are now calling 20-RUV the Lazarus Flu. Doctors are beginning to report that individuals who are actually coming back to life and attacking others after dying from this disease. Now, this is in very few, controlled cases and only in cases where patients have tested positive with the virus. It is believed that this disease is causing mass cases of Lazarus Syndrome and bouts of hysteria. Health care providers are being cautioned to have police on hand at all times to prevent injuries from these individuals. These individuals are being detained in isolated hospital wings for further observations."</em>
</p><p>Now she was wondering if Zazzalil's comment about zombies had been that farfetched. At the time, it had been nothing more than a joke, she was sure. Now, however, it seemed like a very real possibility. As if to run it in, her phone buzzed, a text message to The Tribe group chat.</p><p>[<b>Zazzalil</b>: i fuckin told you]</p><p>The gentle glow of her phone illuminated her face.</p><p>[<b>Jemilla</b>: They said it's Lazarus Syndrome. They're not actually dead, Zazzalil.]</p><p>This was true. Lazarus Syndrome  didn't actually mean they were dead. She wondered if those individuals were being counted in the fatality percentage? Or perhaps they were counting them in the total, and then removing them as they were confirmed to be more definitely alive?</p><p>[<b>Zazzalil</b>: how do we know the government and media aren't lying to us]</p><p>[<b>Zazzalil</b>: they're the real virus jemilla]</p><p>[<b>Schwoopsie</b>: Yeah, what zazz said]</p><p>[<b>Jemilla</b>: You are implausible.]</p><p>Jemilla stopped responding just in time for her other friends to hop on board with the current conversation. She did feel like getting involved in the cluster of confusion from everyone sending their messages all at once, so she put her phone down and moved to grab the TV remote. All of this virus talking was becoming absolutely exhausting. She turned the device off, laying back in her chair.</p><p>She felt helpless.</p><p>Clark cleared his throat and coughed lightly as he walked into their room without addressing Jemilla. She hadn't been too worried about the disease before now, but Clark coughing made her blood run cold.</p><p>Jaw clenched, she remained quiet, convincing herself that it was just a cold.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <b>January 2, 2020</b>
</p><p>
  <em>"Breaking news: The undead are flooding the streets. Sufferers from Lazarus Syndrome as a direct result of the newly dubbed 'Lazarus Flu' have begun breaking out of medical facilities in large numbers."</em>
</p><p>Jemilla looked up at the television, mouth agape. Her phone buzzed in her hands and she looked down at it, squinting against the sudden bright light that her eyes weren't quite used to.</p><p>[<b>Zazzalil</b>: are you okay?]</p><p>[<b>Zazzalil</b>: it looks like the zombies are mostly on your side of town]</p><p>It was a text specifically to her. With a sigh, Jemilla moved to text her to remind her that they, in fact, are not zombies, and to let the smaller woman know that she would be fine. Before she could get halfway through her reply, she heard some strangled gasping noises from the other room.</p><p>It was dark. The room was nearly pitch black as Jemilla stood tentatively. She held her breath, waiting to see if she would hear it again. In a matter of seconds, she heard the sound of someone struggling and failing to breathe. Clark had a cold, but she didn't see why he would be breathing like that from a cold.</p><p>"Clark?" She called, leaning slightly so that she could hopefully see into the bedroom. From where she stood, looking around the corner of the wall and past the door frame, there was a small sliver of light that was visible to her. Her stomach dropped and she wasn't sure why. "Clark?" She called out his name again. Slowly, she began walking across the room, still trying to get a good view without getting too close. Something about this situation sent shivers up and down her spine.</p><p>She inched toward the bedroom, now accepting the fact that she was going to have to walk in there at some point. Soon enough she was standing in the doorway, looking at Clark was turning all kinds of shades of blues and purples on the bed.</p><p>"Clark!" It came out in an inhuman shriek that Jemilla was sure she would be entirely unable to replicate if she wanted to. In less than a second, she was by his side, feeling around his neck and chest for any sign of a pulse.</p><p>She found nothing.</p><p>Thinking quickly, she whipped out her cell phone and called 911, hoping at the very least to get someone to talk her through how to help him until an ambulance could get there. The phone rang once, and then she got a dial tone. The line was busy.</p><p>So she was doing this alone.</p><p>She took a few calming breaths to try and relax herself despite the fact that she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Her fingers linked together and she placed them on Clark's chest--she could only assume, in a more or less correct spot--and began doing chest compressions to the tune of some song. She'd read once that you were supposed to do the compressions in time to it, and so that's what she did, still uncertain about the effectiveness of her technique.</p><p>After what felt like at least fifteen minutes, she stopped and felt for a pulse again.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>The reality of the situation finally fully settled in and she sank to the ground, sobs wracking her entire body. Clark was gone and there was nothing she could have done to save him. There was no telling if he'd been savable when she entered the room, and no telling if getting through to the 911 operator would have even been of any assistance.</p><p>Her fiancé was gone and she felt at least partly responsible.</p><p>She got up, now pacing the floor and trailing her way back out into the hallway.</p><p>"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She repeated the word over and over like a mantra, pulling at her hair in the anxiety of it all. What was she going to do? She was entirely too overwhelmed in this moment. Her hand instinctively reached for her phone, but then gave pause.</p><p>Who was she supposed to contact? Emergency services hadn't answered, and she didn't think that was going to change anytime soon. Should she call his parents? Should she call Molag?</p><p>The lack of a clear correct answer made her want to shut down and do nothing. But then, that wouldn't be right either.</p><p>She unlocked her phone and moved to start typing a phone number into the dial pad when she heard a rustling in the bedroom.</p><p>For the second time within the past half hour, she slowly meandered down the hallway and to the bedroom, feeling fearful. She looked in the bedroom to see him twisted over onto his side, panting heavily over the opposite side of the bed.</p><p>"Clark! Thank god you're okay!" She ran to his side, putting a hand on an abnormally cold shoulder. Her fingers tugged back instinctually. "You're freezing. Let's get you in the bathtub to warm you up."</p><p>And then he did something that made her breath catch in her throat. With a disgusting amount of snaps, crackles, and pops, his head rotated a full 180 degrees to stare at her. Honey eyes darted up to meet his, but instead of the usual deep brown, she was greeted with eyes that were so clouded over with white that they almost looked as if they had rolled back in his head.</p><p>Clark began growling as he slowly stood, his face twisting into a menacing stare. Saliva dripped down his chin and landed on his shirt.</p><p>"Babe?" Her voice came out as a squeak as she backed away, only stopping once her back hit the drywall. At this point, she was too terrified to make the first move. This clearly wasn't her Clark. Or maybe it was some elaborate joke?</p><p>A feral yell erupted from his mouth, rumbling deeply in his chest and throat.</p><p>Nope, not a joke. Time to move.</p><p>Jemilla screamed and ducked as he wildly swung an arm at her head, just narrowly dodging the attack. In her attempt to turn and run, her feet got caught on one another causing her to stumble and fall forward. Thin arms instinctively reached out to prevent her from faceplanting. She scrambled on all fours, trying to spring back up. Instead she fell less than gracefully around door frame to give herself an extra moment to regain her balance. She wasted no time in pushing herself to her feet and sprinting toward the kitchen.</p><p>Her legs moved seemingly of their own volition, her brain in a hazy fog. What the fuck was Clark doing? There was no way he was one of them. But she knew there was no way he wasn't one of them at this point.</p><p>The pounding in her ears grew distracting as she began scanning the kitchen for anything she would be able to use to defend herself. A shimmer of metal caught her gaze.</p><p>A knife.</p><p>Desperately, she reached for it as Clark finally began shuffling down the hallway. Stiff movements caused him to jerk his limbs wildly as he hurried toward Jemilla.</p><p>Finally he was close enough to leap, and leap he did.</p><p>A blood curdling scream erupted from Jemilla's lips as she grabbed the knife and pointed it toward him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Let's... Eat... Jemilla!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Jemilla!" Zazzalil called, pounding her fist on the door. "Jemilla! Open the door!"</p><p>At first, she had been sure that Jemilla would be okay. However, when 20 minutes passed without a response, she got nervous. Nervous enough, in fact, to make the drive across town to come check up on her. Was that the smartest choice, as far as self-preservation went? Not by far. Did she regret it? No. Not yet, at least.</p><p>She stood, banging on the door for at least a full three minutes before she decided that wasn't going to work. Her head swiveled, checking her surroundings to make sure that she had room to break the door down. She backed up a bit, crouching slightly so that she could get a running start. She surged forward, slamming into the door with the meaty part of her bicep.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She growled loudly, frustrated with the situation. What if Jemilla was one of them? She couldn't have been. The curly haired woman likely hadn't left her apartment in weeks, so there was a rather low chance she would have gotten sick in the first place. She had to be home.</p><p>She had to be home.</p><p>So she threw herself at the door again with a thud.</p><p>The thought crossed her mind that she was going to ridiculous lengths for someone she didn't even care about.</p><p><em>Thud</em>.</p><p>She and Jemilla had something of a disdain for each other.</p><p><em>Thud</em>.</p><p>Even through their self proclaimed "rivalry", she couldn't bring herself to leave Jemilla alone if she needed her.</p><p>She hit the door one last time, this time falling through the doorway and onto the floor inside the apartment.</p><p>Light was filtering in through the blinds, though it didn't do much to illuminate the dark living room. Chatter was coming from the television. It was a news station that Jemilla had been watching. Zazzalil glanced up once she heard the news anchor screaming on the TV. One of the undead had approached her and ripped out part of her throat with its teeth. The screen cut back to the studio where some news anchors were trying to discuss the situation despite the reality that one of their colleagues had just been killed. With more difficultly than she cared to admit, she pushed herself off of the floor and slowly creeped through the living room to shut the source of sound off.</p><p>Now that it was quieter in the apartment, she could hear the sounds of muffled sobs coming from nearby.</p><p>"Jemilla?" Zazzalil paused in the middle of the room, listening for the sobs again. They were coming from the kitchen. "Jemilla?" Her voice became softer. More relaxed. If something was wrong, she was hoping that it would be soothing to the woman.</p><p>
  <em>Clark.</em>
</p><p>Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the man laying face up on the ground, sprawled out in an uncomfortable looking position. Vomit began making its way up her throat when she saw that the man had no face, a concaved skull the only remaining part of his head. There was a distinct stab wound in his chest, though she couldn't see any actual blood coming out of it. Thick black sludge took its place. Arguably, she thought that was harder to look at. A hand flew to her mouth and she gulped the bile back down. Unable to look away, she stared. It felt like an hour that she stood there and could do nothing more than watch.</p><p>Remembering her original goal, she cleared her throat and peeled her eyes away from what was left of him. She needed to get to Jemilla.</p><p>"J-Mills? You there?" She rounded the corner and saw Jemilla sitting on the floor, her back resting against the counter. Her face was buried in her elbow and she was shaking as she continued to cry without pause.</p><p>Zazzalil stood, unsure of what she could say and unable to move. So she simply stared until Jemilla looked up at her, tears silently streaming down cheeks.</p><p>"He… He tried to kill me." More calm than she should have been, Zazzalil noted. That was definitely not a good sign.</p><p>The shorter girl collected her thoughts enough to hurry toward the sink and wet a cloth that was laying on the counter. She settled on her knees in front of the curly haired woman, using the cloth to wipe the blood and tears off of her round face.</p><p>"Shhh… It's okay…" Zazzalil whispered to her as she slowly ran the cool cloth over her skin. Hopefully it would both clean her up and serve as a way of grounding her. Shock was causing the older woman to act strange, and it was definitely bad timing, considering the fact that they were going to have to make a run for it if they wanted to survive. They might have been able to stay had Zazzalil not broken the door down, but that hadn't been an option in her panic. "It's gonna be alright."</p><p>Once she got all of the blood that she could off of her face, she threw the cloth back onto the counter top and grabbed her friend's face in her hands, running her thumbs over soft cheeks. "Hey, 'Milla, look at me." Jemilla had finally stopped crying, but was staring straight ahead without any sort of emotion evident on her face. "We can't stay here."</p><p>Why did she think this was going to get her anywhere?</p><p>She stood, stooping back down to lift the woman bridal style and carried her down the hall to her bedroom. Gingerly, the woman was placed on the edge of the bed.</p><p>"I'm gonna get you some clean clothes, okay?"</p><p>Still no response.</p><p>Mouth twisting in concern, Zazzalil stared at her. There wasn't much she could do now. It would have to wait until they got to Grant and Emberly's.</p><p>She hurried to the closet and tugged out the first shirt she saw. The whole world seemed to be ending, so she didn't quite think the brunette would care if her shirt didn't quite match her pants. Just a thought.</p><p>"Alright, J-Mills." She pulled the bloodied shirt up and over the woman's head, and then made quick work of putting her shirt on one arm at a time.</p><p>Her pants look clean enough, she noted. The brunette would pack her some pants for the road.</p><p>"Sit tight, I'm gonna pack a bag."</p><p>She stood and spun on her heels. The first thing that caught her eye was a distinctly fist-sized hole in the wall. Clark had likely caused it when...</p><p>Another glance back to Jemilla, who was also staring at the hole. Zazzalil needed to hurry up and get her out of here.</p><p>She wandered around the apartment for a few minutes grabbing whatever she felt they were going to need. Some first-aid supplies, a few cans of nonperishables, some bottles of water, and two changes of clothes for Jemilla. That would be enough in case they got stranded on their way to Emberly and Grant's. She made sure to pack as light as possible, though that definitely wasn't the easiest task. Cans and water bottles were light on their own, but once she started putting multiple in the bag it got weighed down fairly quickly.</p><p>It was going to have to do.</p><p>"Alright, Jemilla, I think we're ready to go." Entering the bedroom again, she noted that Jemilla still hadn't moved from her spot on the bed, but her lips were twitching slightly as if she were trying to say something. Instead of speaking, she points in a seemingly random direction, toward the corner of the room. Zazzalil's gaze followed her finger to the nightstand between the bed and the wall.</p><p>"The nightstand?" She asked, seeking confirmation. "Is there something in there?"</p><p>Jemilla didn't answer, but she did drop her finger. She might as well look.</p><p>Zazzalil walked around the bed, sliding the drawer open to reveal a holstered pistol and a few clips of ammunition. Must have been Clark's, she thought to herself. Jemilla would never leave it somewhere so easily accessible. She lifted it out of the drawer, making a mental note of how much heavier it was than it looked. In no time, the holster was clipped onto her belt.</p><p>"I think that's gonna enough for now." Feet carried her back around the bed, and she pulled Jemilla into a brief hug. "Here, let me…" Being careful not to hit Jemilla with it, Zazzalil settled the backpack behind her, gently put her arms through the straps, and then fastened the chest clip so that the bag wouldn't slide down the woman's arms.</p><p>"Ready?" It was a rhetorical question. At this point, Zazzalil was talking to the woman to avoid startling her and causing the woman more trauma than she had already endured.</p><p>The small brunette spun around and hoisted her onto her back. The woman's legs were dangling to either side of Zazzalil's waist. "We have to make a run for it. Hold on to me tight and don't let go." She paused, unsure of how Jemilla might handle seeing Clark's body all over again. If she was reacting so strongly already, then re-exposure to the trauma might not be the best idea. "And… close your eyes, okay?"</p><p>Relief washed over her when Jemilla did as she was told, her arms and legs tightening around her friend. The weight of her forehead rested near her ear. She still wasn't talking, but at least she'd be able to get her safely out of the building. Fingertips dug anxiously into clothed thighs as Zazzalil walked into the living room and stared down the front door. There was no telling what danger they might be in when they leave.</p><p>With one final breath to steel herself, she darted out of the apartment and to her car.</p><p>It was by complete luck that the hallway was free of the undead, so she couldn't say she was surprised when the parking lot had a few roaming around. The sight was fairly creepy, as they ominously stumbled around at barely half the speed of a normal walk, which appeared to be the best they could do considering how stiff they looked, even from this distance.</p><p>As she approached her car, she did a 360 spin, looking around to make sure she had the clearance to load the car. Once it was determined to be safe, she pulled open the passenger side door and spun to softly lower Jemilla into the seat. The backpack was removed and placed on the floorboard between her feet, and she smiled at the woman as she buckled her in.</p><p>"Alright, let's get going." She moved the seatbelt into, what she could assume, was a more comfortable position for the woman before she shut the door and ran around to her own side of the car. She turned the car on and, while it struggled, it eventually roared to life.</p><p>And soon enough, they were on the road.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. We Are In A New Age</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the second time that day, Zazzalil found herself pounding on a front door. This time, instead of a small apartment, it was a rather sizable two-story house. "Let me in!" She pounded again, with a greater sense of urgency when someone didn't answer right away.</p><p>Eventually, the door swung open, revealing an irritated looking raven-haired woman.</p><p>"Emberly! Oh, thank fuck!" Zazzalil glanced back to the car where Jemilla was still sitting in the front seat, the backpack she had packed sitting between her legs on the floorboards. "I need to go get Jemilla, but please don't lock me out."</p><p>Without waiting for a response, she darted back to the car and opened the passenger side door. "We're here, J-Mills. Emberly's got us." Hoisting the backpack she slung it over her shoulders. "Alright, here we go." She grunted slightly as she lifted Jemilla bridal style again, and the woman's arms wrapped around her neck to stabilize her.</p><p>This earned a questioning look from Emberly as they passed, but the woman didn't ask any questions. Her lack of questions was surprising until she walked into the living room and saw all of her friends sitting around the living room. Grunt, Smelly-Balls, Tiblyn, Schwoopsie, and Keeri. She did her best to ignore their stares as she walked to the couch and set Jemilla down so that she was sitting upright.</p><p>"You guys know I wasn't serious when I said you could come here, right?" Emberly looked incredulous, standing in the middle of the living room. They had to admit, she was right. None of the friends had texted to ask if it had still been okay. Considering the circumstances, however, they figured they would be forgiven.</p><p>When no one said anything, she groaned and dropped her arms. "Fine, but Grant and I keep our room to ourselves. Deal?" Her finger pointed accusingly around the room, stopping on each and every person.</p><p>Everyone mumbled in agreement, seeing no reason to argue with this point.</p><p>Emberly started off down the hallway again grumbling to herself, into the kitchen, where she could get some peace and quiet. Zazzalil followed.</p><p>"I need to talk to you," the brunette said, concern lacing her tone.</p><p>In one breath, she recounted what had happened at Jemilla's apartment to her friend. The dark haired woman stood, nodding to signify that she was listening, but remaining silent as she hadn't known what to say. Zazzalil's spine shivered while she thought about the body still laying on the floor in the apartment. There had been nothing she could do about it at the time, but doing nothing still hadn't felt like the correct answer. "She's not talking. All she does is sit there and stare." Zazzalil's hand found the back of her head and she scratched, though the spot hadn't itched. "I think she's in shock."</p><p>Content that Zazzalil was done, Emberly walked toward the kitchen entryway and looked toward Jemilla. As expected, she hadn't moved since she and Zazzalil had arrived. "We have a spare bedroom. Maybe we can bring her there and let her rest?"</p><p>"Yeah," Zazzalil began, taking a breath to calm her own nerves. "Yeah, I'll go get her."</p><p>It felt wrong to go and talk to her like a child in front of all of their friends. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to the situation, but she didn't have much of a choice.</p><p>Kneeling to the ground, Zazzalil reached out and put a hand gently on Jemilla's knee. "Hey, J-Mills?" She did her best to ignore the stares of everyone else in the room, but she felt them boring into her back. "Come on, let's go lay down."</p><p>She pushed herself back up to a standing position and then lifted the woman again, bridal style into her arms and carried her off down the hallway. They walked past Emberly and she laid Jemilla down on the bed so that her head was on the pillow.</p><p>Emberly gave a sympathetic look to the curly haired woman. "If you need anything, let me know." She left, shutting the door behind her.</p><p>This left Zazzalil and Jemilla alone in the room. "Are you tired?" Zazzalil asked, playing with Jemilla's hair. The woman turned over on her side so that she was facing the wall. The brunette frowned. Jemilla likely didn't want her to, but she didn't want to leave the woman alone quite yet.</p><p>Her feet carried her around the bed, and she laid down in front of the woman. "Come on." She held her arms open, prompting Jemilla to scoot across the bed. She did just that, moving close enough for Zazzalil to hold her.</p><p>Sleep never came for the two of them but, when the tears came, Zazzalil was there to hold her through it.</p>
<hr/><p>Zazzalil entered the spare bedroom, fresh food in hand. It had been about a week since they'd holed up at Emberly's, and the woman had only left the room to use the restroom. Zazzalil had been bringing her meals to her and doing her best to make sure that she was eating. Much to her dismay, she could only do so much. Even when Zazzalil would sit and try to coax her, her food went unfinished if she even ate at all. She looked weak and she could only assume it was from lack of nutrition.</p><p>Emberly had been making special meals for Jemilla--something simple so that it wouldn't take too much effort to make alongside whatever she was making for everyone else, but something that was also light so that it wouldn't upset her stomach when she ate it. She knew that Jemilla was still not in a good place mentally and wanted to ensure that Jemilla got the sustenance she needed to survive. Whatever appreciation Jemilla was unable to show, Zazzalil did her best to express in her stead.</p><p>"Hey, Jemilla, I've got some dinner for you." The brunette tried her best to sound cheerful, but with Jemilla like this it was hard.</p><p>"Not hungry," the taller girl mumbled. She was curled into a ball on the far side of the bed, facing away from the door. Her words were muffled, presumably by the blanket in front of her face, but Zazzalil had heard them quite clearly regardless. She could have cried. Those were the first words she had spoken since she found her. Instead of allowing herself to cry, she swallowed and cleared her throat.</p><p>"Will you please eat, J-Mills? At least a couple of bites?" She crossed the room and sat on the free space of the bed. "It's broccoli cheddar soup. I know you like it. And Emberly made it, so that's a plus."</p><p>With a sigh, Jemilla rolled over on the bed and, without sitting up, looked up to Zazzalil. It was a heartbreaking sight. Deep purple bags rested under her eyes. Usually golden skin was looking more pale than usual. There was a sadness hidden behind her eyes, and in her lack of the smile that was normally adorning her lips. "I'm not hungry," she repeated, eyebrows furrowing slightly.</p><p>"I know, but you really do need to eat." It was uncanny how reversed their personalities were. In any normal scenario, it would have been Jemilla encouraging Zazzalil to do something that she needed to do for her own wellbeing and not the other way around. But this wasn't a normal scenario.</p><p>With a groan, and probably much more effort than should have been necessary, Jemilla forced herself to a sitting position.</p><p>"There we go," Zazzalil encouraged with a smile. She passed the bowl to Jemilla, who sat with it in her lap, staring at it as if it were going to mysteriously grow limbs and wander off. "How about this? If you take five bites, I'll let it go?"</p><p>Jemilla looked to Zazzalil again, studying her face for a sign that was being dishonest. When she didn't find one she lifted the spoon and brought it to her lips, blowing on it slightly before putting it in her mouth. Much to Zazzalil's surprise, Jemilla took more than five bites. She managed to eat about half of the bowl before she moved to hand it back to the other woman. Zazzalil smiled.</p><p>"Thank you for eating." Whatever compliments Zazzalil wanted to give her for eating even one bite died in her throat when Jemilla reached out and grabbed her arm.</p><p>"Will-" She looked down, uncertain. "Will you lie down with me?" The vulnerability of the request caught Zazzalil off guard, but she eventually smiled up at Jemilla.</p><p>"Yeah, just let me put this down first." She set the bowl on the nightstand and let Jemilla settle into the bed before lying down next to her. She curled up to Zazzalil, her head tucking beneath the smaller woman's chin. Her feet hung off the bottom of the bed, but she seemed content so Zazzalil let it be.</p><p>Fingers gently combed through curly locks of hair and rubbed tense shoulder blades until Jemilla slipped into a light sleep. Zazzalil thought about getting up to let Jemilla sleep, but the way she was clutching to her as if she was a lifeline kept her in bed.</p><p>She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of a head of curls. Then she, too, closed her eyes and soon the two were snoring lightly.</p>
<hr/><p>Later that night, when Zazzalil awoke she looked down to Jemilla who was sleeping more peacefully than she'd seen her sleep all week. When she slipped her arms out from under the taller woman, she had stirred slightly but had remained asleep.</p><p>And so Zazzalil let her sleep.</p><p>She, however, walked out into the living room to stretch her legs.</p><p>Everyone in the house had fallen asleep. It was ominously quiet, especially given the current state of the world. She looked back to the barricaded front door. That was one of the first things they had done when they decided they would be staying for awhile. They had pushed a rather heavy bookcase in front of it to keep anyone from entering. On such short notice, there hadn't been too much they could do about the windows, so they left the curtains drawn and hoped that would suffice for now.</p><p>A frown worked its way to her features. Last she had heard, the entire town was more or less fucked. The longer they stayed here, the harder their escape would be.</p><p>The remote. She looked around and quickly located it on the coffee table. Pointing it at the television, she pushed a button and the screen flickered to life. It was already set to the local news station where the date and time were displayed in the bottom right corner.</p><p>January 11th at 1:47am.</p><p>"Yeesh," Zazzalil said to herself under her breath. She had only intended to take a short nap with Jemilla, but she had been asleep for at least a full eight hours. She was going to be exhausted by dinner time tomorrow. Or today? The distinction didn't matter much to her.</p><p>She sat herself in front of the television, staring up at the screen. The news had finally shifted from claiming the symptom to be Lazarus Syndrome, and the media was admitting to a full scale zombie apocalypse that was underway.</p><p>
  <em>"Since the zombie outbreak, the death rate has spiked to an alarming 64.2%. The government is advising everyone to stay indoors."</em>
</p><p>The death rate might as well be 100%, Zazzalil mused. As of now, it appeared that you either you die by the disease and become one of them, or they kill you and you still become one of them. <em>Definitely</em> a win-win scenario, if she had ever seen one.</p><p>She frowned. She knew there was only so long that they could stay locked in for, and that they would have to leave their temporary sanctuary.</p><p>It certainly was not a day she was looking forward to.</p>
<hr/><p>Zazzalil kept looked toward the spare bedroom. As hard as it had been, she gave Jemilla space when she could. Seeing her in the state she had been in at the apartment was nearly impossible. Here, it was easier, but nowhere near approaching easy despite the leaps and bounds she had taken yesterday.</p><p>Keeri chose that moment to approach Zazzalil, noting how she was doing nothing but watching and hoping Jemilla would emerge from the room and be back to her old self. The two sat in silence. The brunette would do her best to sneak glances to the door again when she thought her friend wasn't looking, but she knew the woman wasn't stupid. She would, and did, get caught.</p><p>"Are you doing okay?" Keeri asked, noticing how restless Zazzalil looked. She looked like she hadn't gotten a proper night of sleep since all of this started, and that scared Keeri. Worry and concern for her wellbeing was at the forefront of the blonde's mind, but Zazzalil seemed too preoccupied with something else to notice.</p><p>"I'm alright, I guess." The answer was noncommittal. It was as if she didn't want to admit that how she felt was so reliant on Jemilla getting better. Both nodded, letting the conversation die off.</p><p>"You were the first one who saw Jemilla after…?" Keeri spoke seemingly out of nowhere and let the thought trail off, looking over toward the bedroom door as well. It was more of a statement than a question.</p><p>"Yeah," Zazzalil responded, nodding as she studied her pants. It wasn't a good memory. She had informed her friends of what had happened while omitting many of the gore-y details that weren't necessary. Their friends had been concerned, but Zazzalil had ended the story in a way that showed she very clearly was not answering any questions. If Jemilla wanted to share more about what had happened, that was for her to decide.</p><p>"Is that why you're so protective of her?"</p><p>Zazzalil scoffed. "I'm what?"</p><p>"Oh, come on, Zazz." Keeri sat on the ground next to the fireplace, putting some space between herself and Zazzalil. "You know what I'm talking about."</p><p>Zazzalil opened her mouth to argue, but was cut off by Emerbly entering the room. "We need to have a team meeting. Gather everyone and meet in the kitchen in five minutes."</p>
<hr/><p>Everyone was stood around the island countertop in the middle of the room, chattering quietly amongst themselves. They wondered what it was they needed to discuss. For Emberly to request a group meeting on such short notice, it had to have been big.</p><p>"Alright, gang," the woman in question began. She looked concerned. "We've all been here for a week and a half, and I'm sure you all know that cooking for nine people is not the most sustainable practice." The entire group looked to her, knowing exactly where this was headed. "We're almost out of food. We might have enough to last two or three more days, but if we don't get supplies or do <em>something </em>soon, we'll all starve to death before we ever have to worry about zombies."</p><p>Silence fell over the room. No one wanted to make a suggestion. It didn't seem to matter what they did in this situation. Everything was risky, and nothing would feel like the best possible choice for the scenario. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and that reality was quickly setting in.</p><p>"Chorn is in Oregon, and as far as they've said it's not as bad there," Tiblyn spoke, drawing all eyes to her. She had been abnormally quiet during this past week, as if she was simply taking everything. "And we don't have to stay once we get there. We can ask around about places that the virus hasn't effected yet."</p><p>The entire group</p><p>"So, wait," Keeri began, looking to the dark-skinned girl. "We're going to cross the entire country during a zombie apocalypse?"</p><p>"Yeah, and how are we going to manage to get the supplies together to survive?" Grunt was thinking through the logistics now, eyes scanning some imaginary scenarios and outcomes in front of him. "That drive could take days! Shit, if we run out of gas and have to walk that could take literal weeks!"</p><p>"I think it's our best bet at surviving." Every head whipped around at the new voice behind them.</p><p>"J-Mills?" Zazzalil asked. Her eyes widened slightly. Was she finally feeling better enough to actually come out of the room and interact with people now?</p><p>She looked hesitant for a minute, but then she spoke up again. "We're sitting ducks if we stay here. We need to pack what we'll need for the drive to get somewhere safe."</p><p>Everyone nodded at this as Jemilla joined her friends at the countertop. "Hatchetfield it is, then," Emberly said with one, firm nod of her head. "We leave first thing in the morning.</p><p>The plan was set.</p>
<hr/><p>"Are you sure you're okay?"</p><p>Zazzalil was standing next to the bed in the spare bedroom with Jemilla. After the conversation in the kitchen, Jemilla had walked out of the room without another word, and Zazzalil had followed her into the room and shut the door behind them. She needed to make sure that Jemilla was actually feeling better.</p><p>"I'm fine." A blatant lie. She was unable to hold eye contact and, what eye contact she did make, the emotion didn't quite reach her eyes.</p><p>"Bullshit."</p><p>The two stood, a battle of sheer will and determination communicated through nothing more than unblinking stares.</p><p>Finally, Jemilla vocalized her thoughts. "Zazzalil, it really doesn't matter how okay I am. We have to get out of here, and the last thing I want to do is slow the group down."</p><p>This was a fair and valid point, Zazzalil had to admit. She couldn't refute it even if she tried. If she did, there was a very real chance at least one person could end up dead.</p><p>Instead of arguing, she walked closer to Jemilla and gently brushed a thumb over her cheek. "Just promise me you'll let me be there for you."</p><p>Jemilla gave a half smile; it still didn't reach her eyes and she didn't show any teeth as she usually did.</p><p>"I promise." Zazzalil didn't fully trust her,  but she accepted the answer because she didn't have another choice. "Come on. Help me get packed." Jemilla reached for her hand, and grabbed it.</p><p>Zazzali smiled, hopeful. In their entire 8 years of friendship, this was the most the two had gotten along.</p><p>It was a nice change.</p>
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